"Carl, there's a dead human in our house!"
My best friend-and roommate-Carl, was in the kitchen, doing the dishes, which was odd, because Carl never did the chores.
He shuffled over and poked the dead body with his foot. "Oh...hey...how did he get here?" Blood was pooling on the floor, from multiple stab wounds in the dead man's chest.
His lying tone was obvious. I stared at him, alarmed. "Carl, what did you DO?!"
He waved a hand nonchalantly. "Me? I didn't do this."
"Explain what happened, Carl!" I said angrily. These kinds of things seemed to happen whenever I went out...
"I've never seen him before in my life!" Carl protested.
"Why did you kill this person, Carl?!"
"I do not kill people. That is..." he couldn't help glancing back towards the kitchen. "That is my LEAST favorite thing to do."
I sighed. "Carl, tell me exactly what you were doing before I got home."
He frowned and shifted uncomfortably. "Alright. Well, um, I was upstairs..."
"I-I was sitting in my room..."
"Reading a book..."
He paused, as if unsure to continue. I waved a hand. "Go on..."
"And then this guy walked in..."
There was a sinking feeling of dread in my chest. "Okay..."
"So I went up to him..."
"And I, uh...I stabbed him thirty-seven times in the chest!" Carl finished with a hopeful smile.
There was silence. Finally, I said in a hushed tone, "Carl, that kills people!"
He blinked. "Oh. I didn't know that."
"How did you not know that?!" I demanded furiously.
His face fell. "Yeah, I'm in the wrong here. I suck..."
I realized something else with a start. "What happened to his hands?!" I stared in horror at the handless corpse.
"What's that?" Carl looked up.
"His hands. Why are they missing?"
"Well..." Carl pointed to the kitchen. "I kinda cooked them up. And ate them."
Well, that explained the dishes. "...Carl!"
He shrugged apologetically. "Well, I was hungry, and you know, when you crave hands-"
"Why on earth would you do that, Carl?" I interrupted.
"I was hungry for hands, give me a break!"
Carl grinned and wiggled his eyebrows at me. "My stomach was making the rumblies-"
"-that only hands would satisfy!"
"What is WRONG with you, Carl?" I asked, horrified. Why did I have to have a cannibalistic roommate?
He frowned and counted on his fingers. "Well, I kill people...and I eat hands." He held up two fingers. "That's two things!"